


The One With the Halloween Party

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Teenchesters, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Dean is going to his last high school Halloween party, dressed as his favorite superhero...and meets his favorite little henchwoman.~~~~~~~~~~~“Well, if it isn’t the Bat-Man,” a distinctly Arleen Sorkin-esque voice shouted from across the living room. “Shouldn’t ya have a sidekick feedin’ ya those piggies?”Dean turned, swallowing down a mouthful of food and almost choking on it when his eyes fell on a girl in a skintight black and red jester costume, leaning on a comically large hammer. “Well, Dr. Quinzel, I gave the Boy Wonder the night off. Kids gotta go trick-or-treating while they can,” he said.She smiled and walked over, picking her hammer up and leaning it against her shoulder. “Tryin’ to give ‘im what you never got, eh, Batsy?”Dean chuckled and shook his head a little. “I didn’t come to get psychoanalysed.”“Well, come on! I went to school fer eight years fer this! I was board certified until they took my license! You gotta let me stretch the shrink muscles every once in a while!” she exclaimed and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.He laughed and reached out to flick the bauble on the side of her jester hat. “Sweetheart, your Harley Quinn is perfect.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	The One With the Halloween Party

**Story Warnings** : underage drinking, making out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you wanna sulk around the motel, Sammy? You can always come with. There’s gonna be other freshmen there,” Dean called from the bathroom.

“I’m fine, Dean. I don’t even have a costume,” Sam dismissed. “It’s fine. I’ve got homework anyway.”

“Nerd,” Dean said as he walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his gloves. “How do I look?”

Sam scoffed. “You called _me_ a nerd?” He rolled his eyes as Dean adjusted his black rubber cowl.

“Shut up. Batman’s badass.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not Batman.”

Dean shrugged. “I am tonight. Don’t wait up, Sammy.” He winked at his little brother as he walked out the door and started walking toward the house party at the house on the corner of Sixth and Vine. He passed kids in costumes, happily trick-or-treating. They giggled and ran and Dean tried not to think about the myriad things that could steal them away into the dark. Tonight was about fun and candy and girls and booze...if the cheerleader that invited him was to be believed.

The door was open so he strolled in, walking up to the table straight ahead and grabbing a cup of punch and a handful of pigs in a blanket. He was happy to taste the burn of too much rum in the punch.

“Well, if it isn’t the Bat-Man,” a distinctly Arleen Sorkin-esque voice shouted from across the living room. “Shouldn’t ya have a sidekick feedin’ ya those piggies?”

Dean turned, swallowing down a mouthful of food and almost choking on it when his eyes fell on a girl in a skintight black and red jester costume, leaning on a comically large hammer. He cleared his throat and took a drink of punch. “Well, Dr. Quinzel, I gave the Boy Wonder the night off. Kids gotta go trick-or-treating while they can,” he said, dropping his voice to a lower register.

She smiled and walked over, picking her hammer up and leaning it against her shoulder. “Tryin’ to give ‘im what you never got, eh, Batsy?”

Dean chuckled and shook his head a little. “I didn’t come to get psychoanalysed.”

“Well, come on! I went to school fer eight years fer this! I was board certified until they took my license! You gotta let me stretch the shrink muscles every once in a while!” she exclaimed and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

He laughed and reached out to flick the bauble on the side of her jester hat. “Sweetheart, your Harley Quinn is perfect.”

“Thanks! I made it myself!” she responded, dropping the accent.

“You _made_ this?” Dean asked, pulling up the cowl so that he could examine her hat closer. He could see the stitching was just a bit imperfect when he leaned in, but it was still a work of art.

“Well, yeah. Pretty hard to find a Harley Quinn costume at the store. Batgirl, Poison Ivy, Catwoman, definitely but Harley Quinn is a bit more niche. I don’t mind, though. I’m pretty good with a sewing machine.”

“Wow, you’re amazing. I got mine off’a rack at Wal-mart and you pulled out the sewing machine. You got the giant hammer, you got the accent and the attitude, you are awesome. You’re just...awesome.”

She looked down, bashfully and shook her head. “I’m not that awesome. I can’t do the gymnastics like she can.”

“She’s a cartoon. No one can do the gymnastics like she can,” Dean argued.

“Gymnasts can,” she responded with a smirk.

“That’s true, but gymnasts aren’t normal. They’re like contortionists...not normal.”

She laughed and nodded. “True. Contortionists are weird. My friend is double jointed and she twists her arms all weird and it makes me gag every time.”

Dean resisted making a dirty joke about her gagging and nodded. “Would you like some punch, Harley?”

“Of _course_ , Bruce. Might wanna put the cowl back on, though. Mistah J doesn’t wanna know who you are ‘til yer dead,” she said in the Harley voice, winking at him as he pulled the cowl back down.

They spent the whole party on a small couch, talking and laughing and getting to know each other. They’d exchanged names after an hour of calling each other ‘Batsy’ and ‘Harley’ and they were exchanging saliva before the second hour was up. Y/n was grabbing at him as they made out, tipsy on punch and good company.

“Seriously. You are awesome,” he said, pulling away from the kiss with a smile.

“You are too, Dean,” she said, smiling. “You got the time?”

“You got a curfew?” he asked, pulling his left glove down to reveal his watch. “Half past midnight.”

She groaned and shook her head. “I gotta be home by one.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Dean asked, disappointed.

“Yeah. Unfortunately. My dad will kick my ass if I show up late with my makeup all messed up and liquor on my breath."

Dean nodded. He knew about angry dads, even if his own didn't give a damn about a curfew. "Well...you wouldn't wanna give me your digits, would you? I mean...I'm in town another couple weeks, we could--we could hang or somethin'."

Y/n bit her bottom lip and nodded. “You got a pen?”

Dean shook his head and stood. “Anybody got a pen on ‘em?!”

“I got an eyeliner pencil,” a guy in a punk rock outfit with dark black eyeliner on his lids.

“Thank you, Sid Vicious.” Dean pulled his glove off and handed the black pencil to Y/n.

She smiled as she wrote her number on the back of his hand. “Call after five if you’re calling on a weekday. I’ve got band practice.”

“Yeah? What do you play?” he asked.

“Flute,” she said, nonchalantly. She smiled as she picked up her hammer and slung it over her shoulder. “Anyway...hope to hear from ya, Batsy. Had a heckuva time,” she finished in the accent before walking out of the house.

Dean licked his lips and sighed, staring at the numbers on his hand. “Had a heckuva time too, Doctor. Happy Halloween.”


End file.
